


With a cane and a high starched collar

by tahariel



Series: Backseat 'verse [4]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Collars, Dom/sub, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Painplay, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahariel/pseuds/tahariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after their bonding ceremony, Erik has a gift for Charles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a cane and a high starched collar

When Charles wakes up the morning after, it takes him a while to remember why he feels so safe, so utterly warm and achingly contented. He’s never been much of one for mornings, so it takes time for him to register the arms around him holding him close to a muscled chest, the rise and fall of breath under his cheek and the beat of a heart through warm skin taking longer still, a far-off, soothing sound like a drum.

He remembers slowly, languorously, quiet happiness bubbling up in him from his toes upward - he was bonded last night. He is in Erik’s arms. Erik is his Dom, and Charles belongs to Erik, and they are curled up together in the middle of that giant bed in the new apartment Raven had taken him to after the ceremony to wait for Erik, where Charles had fallen - quite properly - asleep, waking only to find himself looked down upon by someone strange and beautiful.

Charles shifts a little, not enough to wake Erik, just enough to feel the dull ache in his ass where his Dom had held him down and fucked him last night, opened him up with his fingers and - 

“Mmm,” says a deep and rasping voice, and Charles’ body pillow shifts under his head, the arms around his shoulders and waist tightening as though to make sure he stays put while Erik stretches, dry lips pressing a kiss against Charles’ hair. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Charles says, feeling breathless and daring, and lifts his head to meet Erik’s heated, curious gaze.

Erik is just as strikingly handsome in the early daylight as he had been in candlelight, strong features and the beginnings of crowsfeet at the corners of his eyes, his brow lightly creased - worn in around the edges, though his eyes are the most wondrous shade of blue-green, and Charles finds himself blushing, naked as a jaybird with his body pressed all along Erik’s, his hands pressed to Erik’s bare torso with only a sheet thrown over them as an afterthought.

Erik smiles, and Charles swears his heart skips a beat.

“Perfect,” his Dom murmurs, and brings his hand up to tangle in Charles’ hair - he seems to like it, he did the same last night - and holds him still for a kiss, tugging at the roots just a little to make Charles’ toes curl. A whine escapes his throat that the other man seems to approve of, because he does it again, keeping Charles where he wants him and rubbing the inside of his thigh along the inside of Charles’ where their legs are interlaced, coarse hair rubbing against the delicate skin. Charles kisses him back carefully, because more than anything he wants Erik to be pleased.

He can feel the warm sensation of another mind close against his own, but doesn’t dare touch it yet. Erik hasn’t given any indication either way as to how he feels about telepathy, regardless of his sister’s own power, and no indication of where his boundaries are. Charles has always known there would be boundaries.

Erik’s tongue is coaxing and demanding by turns, his hand half-fisted in Charles’ hair adjusting him a little to get the right angle, the right grip. His other hand has slipped down to the small of Charles’ back, keeping him tucked in against Erik’s body, like a captured prize. Charles surrenders gratefully, giving over control with a shiver of excitement that runs down his spine, hips pressing closer against Erik’s leg, fingers curling into the sparse hair on that broad, strong chest. Raven might have been happy to tell him what to do while he still lived at home, but waking up before she did so he could be sat correctly for her arrival is nothing to waking up to this, being paid worship to by someone who _wants_ him this badly.

They are both hard. Charles thinks about the size of Erik’s cock where it presses against his belly, wet-tipped and swelling, and moans into his Dom’s mouth.

His Dom - _his_ Dom - breaks the kiss with a wet noise of lips parting, pulling Charles back and away to let them both breathe heavily, chests pushing against each other. “Good morning,” Erik says again, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Charles smiles back, leans into the palm now cupping the side of his head, a thumb brushing gently over the thin, sensitive skin of his temple. Each time it touches there Charles feels a spark of connection, like a warm jolt of telepathy he can’t suppress. His little focusing habit is too deeply ingrained now to dig out the association.

“That feels good.”

Charles mustn’t do a good job of suppressing his little twitch of surprise, because Erik’s smile widens. “I’ve had plenty of practice knowing when Emma is snooping around up here. It never felt that nice, though.”

“She probably wasn’t thinking about last night,” Charles says daringly, and holds still when Erik kisses him again, thumb still stroking Charles’ temple now that he knows just where to touch to make Charles shiver and - tentatively - stroke back with his mind, just emotional sensation, nothing any more intrusive. Erik makes a pleased rumbling sound and all of a sudden he’s dragging himself upright to prop himself against the pillows at the head of the bed, pulling Charles along with him without breaking the kiss; instead of draped across Erik he’s now sprawled in the man’s lap, and Charles makes a grab for Erik’s shoulders to keep himself steady, only to have his hands knocked away so that he tips forward against Erik instead, helpless.

“No, like this,” Erik murmurs, holds him there utterly reliant on Erik’s hands to keep him from falling.

The blinds must never have been closed the night before, because the sunlight is pouring in and making the room warm and golden, a blissful summer haze of kissing and necking for what feels like hours, willingly captive, both of them hard and doing nothing about it but push against one another from time to time. Charles’ hips jolt when Erik licks at the bite mark he left on Charles’ throat the night before, stinging and electric, and he goes willingly when Erik rearranges his legs for him, dragging his thighs to either side of Erik’s hips so Charles is straddling his body more comfortably. He lets his hands rest idly at his sides, waiting to be told what to do with them.

Erik’s mind is hot and molten, and even from outside Charles can see how it shines out, like a drop of mercury in a sea of silver stars, all the other minds around them in the city dimmer, somehow, falling away. He brushes against it pleadingly, gentle, gentle, the way his nanny used to show him. Be gentle. Don’t push too hard or it’ll bruise. And Erik - opens up, reaches for him in his head the way his hands are clutching tighter at Charles’ body, one drifting down to take a handful of Charles’ ass and _squeeze_.

“Aaaah!” The dull ache of his hole becomes sharp and painful, and Charles can’t hold in the sound he makes, though he tries; his whole face crumpling in as he tries not to bite down on Erik’s tongue. His mind clamps back into its shell, but he manages not to pull away physically until Erik does, eyes opening to his Dom’s concerned face. “Sorry, sorry - ”

“Does this hurt?” Erik asks, petting the handful of flesh he had squeezed before, stroking the round of it.

“N- no.” It’s gone back to an ache, but deeper-set now than before, sharper-edged and throbbing in time with his fast-beating heart. 

“Does this hurt?” The hand slips further down, fingers caressing back and forth along the crease where Charles’ buttock meets his thigh. He has to try very hard not to kick out, because it tickles and it feels - it’s sensitive, good, and Charles ducks his head to hide his flush in the side of Erik’s neck before he can think better of it, buries his nose there and shakes a little with pleasure. Erik smells really good. “No.”

“Does this hurt?” And the touch moves across to his swollen, tight hole, which clenches against the fingertip that probes it and throbs with pleasure-pain, sore and still sleek with oil from last night. Charles moans and tries to twitch away, toward, away from that touch, can feel Erik’s fascination with his reaction in the nearness of his thoughts, just outside of Charles’. He knows before he does it that Erik is going to do it again, and he does, tracing light circles around the crinkled pucker and making Charles shake and whine. It feels good at first but the longer he does it the more it hurts, until he’s whimpering more than moaning, and Erik stops.

“Sssh.” The hand pulls away from Charles’ hole and then there are fingers in his hair again, tugging him away from Erik’s neck and pulling him upright. “Look at me.”

In the morning sunlight Erik’s hair has tints of red in it, his lashes fine and long and gingery, trans-illuminated by the brightness coming in from outside. “You’re alright,” he says in a low, aroused voice, and presses his lips to the space between Charles’ brows, then, when Charles closes his eyes, to each eyelid. “You’re alright. You’re so good. Open your eyes.” 

Charles does, meeting Erik’s heated gaze with breathless obedience.

And then Erik brings his other hand down across Charles’ ass, a sharp smack across his sore hole and the tender space where his cheeks meet, and Charles comes all over him with a cry, his untouched cock jerking and spurting between their bodies, bright sharp pleasure rocketing through him as they stare into each others’ eyes, Erik’s hand keeping him there, a thumb pressed to the corner of his eye as a reminder to keep them open.

“Good,” Erik murmurs, and kisses him again through the aftershocks, stroking his ass while he shudders and moans, before shifting Charles’ head to his shoulder and letting Charles lie against him limply, skin to skin, too relaxed to do anything but keep still as Erik starts to rut his big, hard cock against Charles’ belly through the cooling come there. When he shifts Charles about where he wants him - hands spreading his legs and then a palm rubbing through the wetness and smearing it across Charles’ thighs - the sub just moans and closes them around Erik’s cock when he lays it against Charles’ perineum, squeezes tight when Erik tells him to and jerks helplessly when Erik starts thrusting between his soft, slicked-up legs. The head of his cock rubs everywhere Charles is oversensitive from his own orgasm, Erik’s hands cupping Charles’ hips to hold him steady while he grunts and moans and comes too, hot and sticky all over Charles’ swollen, clenching asshole, biting down on the arch of Charles’ neck with sharp teeth.

When he’s done, lying back lax and panting, Charles presses his mouth to the matching place on Erik’s shoulder to where Erik had bitten him, though it’s more of a lick than a kiss.

They lie there quietly for a while, relaxed together. Erik strokes his hands all over Charles’ body, slow and tender, every so often dipping his fingers between Charles’ cheeks just to make him jolt and moan and shiver deliciously, and Charles gradually opens his mind back up to Erik’s, waiting for him to say stop, but he never does. Rather than dipping in Charles just lets his mind rest there against his Dom’s, curled up close the way their bodies are.

Outside far away there is the noise of traffic and people, but it is long distant from where they are, in this place that belongs to Erik, in which Charles belongs to Erik.

“I have something for you,” his Dom says eventually, his mouth half-buried in Charles’ hair, lips moving against the sensitive skin of his scalp. “It’s in the bureau by the door. Fetch it for me.”

They’re a little stuck together where Charles’ come has dried between them, so he has to peel himself painfully off of Erik when he manages to get his hands under himself and push up to his hands and knees, but it’s worth it for the look Erik gives him when he sits back and swings his legs off the side of the bed, standing with a wince as his body protests its recent vigorous use. Charles just stretches his arms out over his head, pushing up toward the ceiling and stretching his whole body to show himself off a little, pleased with the way Erik’s expression changes from languor to sharp attention. The carpet under his bare feet is thick and plush as he pads over to the bureau by the closed door and opens the top drawer. 

There’s a jewellery box lying on the thick layers of sweaters, black and unmarked, about the size of his two hands laid side by side, square and unassuming and he knows what this is. He bites his lip in anticipation as he picks it up - it’s heavy.

“Bring it back here,” Erik calls from the bed, and Charles turns to take it to him, clambering up onto the end of the bed and shuffling forward on his knees until he’s back in Erik’s lap, straddling his thighs and sitting back against his knees when Erik raises them, feet flat on the mattress so his knees are steady enough to support Charles’ weight. Erik turns the box in Charles’ grip, sure and steady-handed, and opens it.

The collar and bracelet inside are simple curves of silver metal, bright against the black velvet box-lining and polished to a high shine. There’s no catch, no opening on either of them. He looks up at Erik, confused, to find Erik smiling at him. “How…?”

“Like this.” Erik picks up the collar, tugging it loose of the setting, and in his hands it shifts and bends, parting easily like liquid. “Didn’t your sister tell you about my mutation?”

In Erik’s hands the collar is malleable, utterly under his control, not just a piece of metal but something he can shape into whatever he wants it to be, and he wants Charles to wear it. Charles has never wanted to wear something more. “If she did I was probably working at the time instead of listening. She doesn’t always wait to make sure.” His chest feels tight, his heart pounding loudly against the inside of his ribcage, and he bites at his lower lip with restless anticipation, leans forward a little without meaning to. “Please.”

Erik lifts it higher, spreads the gap wide enough to take Charles’ neck, rests the open points against his skin so Charles can feel the metal prick at him, eager to close. His eyes, though, are very serious when he says, “I can make it so you can take it off if you want, or I can just make it whole again once it’s on, but then you’ll need me to take it off for you. Which would you prefer?”

“I don’t want to take it off,” Charles says, and tilts his head back to bare his throat, thinks, please. Please. “I want to be yours.”

Erik’s gaze is hot and focussed, his lips parting on a sharp breath, and the metal is warm and fluid when he places it around Charles’ throat, snugging it in tightly against the notch of his collarbones and stroking it sleek and shut at the nape of his neck, seamless. “You’re perfect. God. My sister is going to be so smug.”

The collar is tight but comfortable, round-edged to keep it from chafing, and Charles reaches up to touch it with curious fingers, closes his eyes when swallowing presses it against the bob of his bruised Adam’s apple. When he opens his eyes again his Dom is looking at him hungrily, following the movement of his fingers against the collar he has just put on Charles as he picks up the matching bracelet and slips it around his left wrist, the metal expanding over his hand and then cinching tight around his pulse, against the beat of his heart. Now everyone will know he is Erik’s.

“Come here,” Erik says, and Charles goes.


End file.
